Unspoken Love
by Synful Nocturne
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and Malik's all alone in the City of Light. Has Marik abandoned him? Or has he gone off to prove his feelings for his light? Bronzeshipping.


Hi, all! It's Syn, and I'm here with a Valentine's Day special. This is bronzeshipping (that's Yami no Malik x Malik, or Marik x Malik, folks).

Disclaimer: I do not own YGO. I make no money off of the fanfiction I write. So stop sending lawyers after me! All I have is the lint in my pocket, and I'm not even sure I own _that_.

Warnings: Um… A bit of fluff, at the end. Implied slashiness. OOCness, definitely.

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It was late at night as Malik stared out his window at the City of Light. His darker half had dragged him here a few weeks ago, claiming he was in search of something special. What that was, Malik had no clue.

Malik sighed softly, tearing his gaze from the beautiful Parisian view. Marik had been disappearing a lot recently, instead of spending his time ravishing his lighter half. This time, he'd been gone nearly a week. Malik bit his lip gently, worrying at it. Maybe…maybe Marik was growing tired of him. What other reason could Marik have for leaving him alone so often as of late?

He sighed again, deciding to just go to bed. It didn't seem like Marik would be returning tonight, either. He wandered off to the bedroom, where he quickly stripped down. He pulled on a pair of comfortable pajama pants, then threw his dirty clothes in a basket. It seemed Ryou's cleanliness had rubbed off on him.

Malik was just climbing into bed when he heard the front door creak open. Always cautious, he slipped back out of bed and picked up a dagger Marik had given him, which he often left on his nightstand when he slept. He crept out of the bedroom and walked as quietly as he could down the hall, dagger clenched tightly in his hand.

What he saw in the front room had the dagger slipping, forgotten, from his limp grasp.

The sound of the blade striking the floor had the other figure looking up from where he sat on the windowsill. "Did I wake you, Malik?" he asked softly.

Malik quickly shook his head. "I was just going to bed. I-I didn't think you'd be home tonight," he confessed softly. "You haven't been home in a week, Marik."

His darker half frowned softly at the other's words, getting up. Had it really been that long? He thought quickly. He supposed it had been that long. He'd been so busy tracking down his latest target, he'd lost count of the days.

He had a feeling he'd be forgiven, though, when Malik saw Marik's latest prize. Marik often had a hard time expressing his feelings, especially those on the lighter end of the spectrum, and he'd wanted to find something that would express how he felt about Malik. Something that would convey how much he loved his lighter half, without having to say the words that always died on the tip of his tongue.

He reached into the small bag he'd left sitting on the windowsill, and pulled out a long, thin black box. He handed it to the other, saying simply, "Open it."

Malik took the box with a confused frown, doing as he was told. The box was lined with thick black silk, but that's not what caught his eye. His gaze was immediately drawn to what was cradled in the soft fabric. Malik set the open box on the nearby table and gently lifted out a jeweled rose. Holding it up to the light from the window, he found that the stones were carefully and ornately carved. Rubies, so dark they were almost black, were crafted into the finest of blooming roses and half-open buds, while the stem and leaves, carefully veined, was made of bright emeralds. He couldn't even tell where one gem ended, and the next began.

Putting it back in its box, Malik smiled softly. He now knew what his darkness had been trying to do, to say. He walked over to Marik, and pecked his lips gently. "Thank you, Marik. It's beautiful." _I love you, too,_ was the unspoken message, though Marik heard it as clearly as if it had been shouted. Marik wrapped his arms around Malik, simply holding him as they looked out over the city.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

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And there you have it. A nice bit of fluff. I tell you, this thing did _not_ want to be written. It flowed rather nicely when I thought it up, but once it was typed… It's just not flowing correctly anymore. Ah, well. At least it's written. Now, click on the pretty button, and feed my muse.


End file.
